


Shallow Darkness and Rooted Evil

by StarScreamLoki



Category: Loki - Fandom, clint bartonn
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki's POV, POV Third Person, Swearing, mentions of torture, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 17:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarScreamLoki/pseuds/StarScreamLoki
Summary: The last thing Loki remembers is that he was on his way to Stuttgart along with his thrall, but something went horribly wrong. When he opens his eyes after a horrific nightmare, he’s stuck in a cell with Barton who is no longer under his influence and with no means to escape. His captors want information about the scepter they have confiscated and don’t shy to torture him to get the answers they so feverishly seek. Loki doesn’t get reprieve in his cell either because he has to deal with an angry Clint.





	Shallow Darkness and Rooted Evil

**Author's Note:**

> For my 6k followers drabble celebration I wrote a short, angsty drabble with Loki and Clint. ([Found here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19448545/chapters/48185134#workskin)) I’ve been fond of this pairing for quite a while because it’s such a fertile base for some delicious angst. The drabble I created apparently tasted like moreish, hence this one shot. I hope you enjoy.

_ "You have failed, Asgardian. We are not going to break our promise. You will long for something as sweet as pain." _

_ "I have not failed yet. It is a minor setback.” _

_ "Liar! You don't have the Tesseract. The scepter is no longer in your possession. You have failed." _

_ "As I said, a minor setback. Nothing that I cannot-" _

_ "Silence! It is too late, Asgardian. You had your chance. You took something from us, now we're taking something from you!" _

_ A hand made contact with his head. Pain seared his body from the inside out. Something weaseled its way into his body and soul while simultaneously something viciously got jankend out. _

_ Loki screamed. _

* * *

The God was sitting on the dirty floor, keeping a wary eye on the other man while he tried to shake the nightmare off. 

A quick check of lifting the man’s eyelids showed that the intense blue in Clint's eyes had worn off. He was still unconscious, but when he woke Loki didn't know how he would respond.

Loki eyed the Shackle around Clint's ankle which was chained to the wall - the only thing between him and the God should Clint awake and decide to take retaliation.

Of course Loki had the same type of shackle placed around his being. A single, meager shackle. It was almost offensive. He had tried to break it, but whoever had captured them hadn't taken half measures. The metal was too strong even for the God to break. There weren't many types of metal in the Nine realms that could keep Loki back, but this was definitely one of them. That, at least, made it a little less offensive, but it still irked him.

He was also glad that it was just this meager confinement instead of hanging from the ceiling by his wrists or something alike.

Patiently Loki waited for… Well, nothing actually. Maybe he was waiting for the other to come to, but he had little else to do. They had stripped him from his scepter, most of his attire was gone and they had left him in his simple tunic and leather pants which he wore underneath all his layers and which were sticking to his skin now. Even his boots were gone.

Clint was equally stripped of his possessions and Loki couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse about that. He held no love for the archer, on the contrary, but with both of their hands empty of anything that could be used as a weapon or tool, it was a bleak situation. Plus he had liked his henchman in his attire - it made him seem strong and formidable, something and someone a world conqueror should have by his side.

Slowly Clint's eyes began to open and Loki felt something akin to dread and anxiety swirl in his stomach.

“You!” the archer exclaimed the moment his eyes settled on the God and in an instant he seemed fully aware. “I'm gonna kill you,” Clint growled and leapt forward with his fist leading.

Apparently Loki had been wrong. The chain was not enough to keep the murderous human at bay.

Solidly the man's fist collided with his nose, but the joke was on him. The metal may be able to keep them from escaping, but the human's brittle bones were nothing compared to his godly ones.

“Fuck!” Clint howled, shaking his hand.

“I suppose I deserved that,” Loki mumbled.

“The hell you did!” Clint spat. “That, and so much more.”

“Save your energy, Barton. It shall do you no good,” Loki sighed.

Now that Clint gave him a withering glare, Loki was sure the effects of the sceptre had worn off and that the man was no longer his thrall.

“What have you done to me? Where are we?” he demanded angrily.

“For once this was not my doing. I am just as much of a captive as you are,” Loki stated and to accentuate his point he gestured at the shackle around his ankle.

“You think I believe that?” the other bit nasty.

“Do not believe it if you will, it is the harsh truth,” Loki shrugged, trying to stay calm.

Clint’s fingers curled into a fist at his side, and for a moment Loki thought he would lash out again, but the man kept a lid on himself and walked to the other side of the tiny cell with a growl.

“Where are we?” he asked through gritted teeth while he sunk down against the wall, keeping a wary eye on the God.

Loki shared the sentiment of alertness - he wasn’t comfortable either with his cell-mate. His fingers found each other in his lap to fidget, both due to nervousness of the withering glare of the other, as for the answer he was going to give. “I do not know.”

“You do not know!” Clint barked, anger flaring in his soft blue eyes. “Aren’t you the great God with the magic stick?” he asked mockingly. “The one-”

“They took it,” Loki interrupted dryly.

“Fucking amazing,” Clint murmured sarcastically. “Just fucking amazing.”

The archer got up from his perch. “Don’t you dare to move!” he said while pointing a finger at the God.

A tired sigh escaped Loki’s lips. “Or what, Barton?”

“I… Shit! Just don’t, okay!”

Half-hearty Loki spread his hands in the air, a gesture that he would heed the command, how laughable it may be. If Loki truly wanted to harm Clint, he would have either done so by now or the human wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Methodically Clint investigated their tiny, ten by ten cell. Four thick, bricked up walls, a rough concrete floor and a ceiling with a light bulb he couldn’t reach. No windows and only one thick steel door with a latch at the bottom. It was truly dreadful.

Clint tried the door even though he knew better.

“Already tried that,” Loki commented off-hand.

He didn’t get an answer and his former thrall just continued his search, poking at every inch that proved interesting or slightly evoked a possibility.

“You are wasting your time and energy.”

“I don’t see you helping!” Clint snapped and before Loki could say something he added equally snappy, “Shut up!”

Eventually the human realized the futility of it all as well and sank back on his spot against the wall, probing and prying at the metal around his ankle.

“Unbreakable,” Loki murmured dismayed.

It was so extremely pathetic; the humans had invented a metal - or got their hands on it, Loki didn’t know - that  _ he  _ couldn’t break. Once again his physical strengths were not enough, a shortcoming, and a vicious voice in the back of his head said, “ _ If Thor had been here you would be free. But alas, you are not strong enough, God of Trickery. A failure. _ Again!”

His nails dug deeper into the flesh of his hand, not drawing blood, but the pain enough to keep him grounded.

Apparently the archer was done playing with his confinement and suddenly spoke. “Can’t you magic us out of here or something?”

Loki’s drooped eyes wandered back from his own lap to the man sitting across from him. “If I was able to do so, you would have awoken in this cell alone.”

A mocking laugh from the other curled around Loki’s ears, filling their tiny space. “You’re a sad bastard, you know that? You come here to enslave our planet, but when they have you in chains, you’re fucking worthless. Not so big now without your fancy stick.”

Inwardly Loki flinched and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at the human. “I do not see you of being much help either,” he grated, feeding the other his own words.

Still, the accusations left him worried. Not only had the humans successfully chained him with something so strong he couldn’t break it, they had also done something that supressed his Seidr. Minor spells wouldn’t even reach his fingertips. Larger, more complex spells activated something in his bloodstream that viciously seared his veins, making him lose focus and tormenting him even after he had let go of the spell.

He felt powerless and useless.

“You had to do it,” Clint mumbled. “You had to fucking do it! Are you proud? Was this what you wanted when you stuffed my head full of cotton!” His voice had risen and now the human was near screaming. “You asshole turned my brain inside out for your own, selfish purposes. For what? Because you want to rule the fucking world?” he spat. “You're evil. You're a sick fuck, you know that? I bet you needed me because you can't even make friends, using me for your dirty work. Fucking asshole. You-”

“Are you done?” Loki barked threateningly, cutting the other off. “Because I would rather work towards a solution and escape instead of listening to your useless tirade. There shall be enough time to vent your anger after that.”

“I've just begun,” Clint sassed, but the look on his face showed that he would relent.

And thus they sat there in silence, as far apart from each other as their tiny space allowed, thinking about a possible way to get out.

“I need to piss,” Clint stated, breaking the silence.

Loki rolled his eyes, but otherwise remained silent. He didn’t have anything to say about that useless piece of information, nor did he have a solutions. There was a serious lack of a bucket in that regard.

Footsteps came from the other side of the door and immediately Loki and Clint were on their feet, ready to fight.

After a moment the heavy steel door swung open with a clang.

Three bulky men walked in and one backhanded Clint across the face hard enough to send him skittering to the floor. “Stay there,” he commanded sternly and turned his attention to the God.

Loki had already taken up a battle stance, shackle or not, and was prepared to fight them tooth and nail. Without warning, fire shot through his veins, the exact same searing pain he felt whenever he tried to access his Seidr.

He gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but after a couple of seconds the pain laid him low. With a cut off scream his knees buckled, crashing to the floor and the men moved forward as one. Strong hands seized his limbs while the third opened the shackle. All he could do was trying to trash in their grip, but the fire eating him from the inside made it nigh impossible.

Then they were dragging him away as if he was nothing more than a small child or a ragdoll.

Clint watched from his prostrate position on the floor and couldn't help but grin.

“Stop grinning or you're next!” the third man threatened nasty.

At once the smile fell from his face and Clint flinched inwardly, but kept a brave face.

Without another word the men strode out with big steps, slamming and locking the door behind him, leaving Clint alone in the tiny cell.

* * *

Ungraciously Loki got dumped on the floor of the cell and they fastened the shackle around his ankle. With a loud bang of the door his captors left, leaving him alone with his former thrall.

Clint laughed. “Had a fucking taste of your own medicine?”

Loki grunted and pushed himself up, a deep ache in his body making him want to lie down again.

He didn’t.

Apparently his tormentors had a neat little device that controlled whatever they had put in his bloodstream. Searing pain after searing wave of pain had wrecked his body while they had asked him about the scepter. At first Loki had given sassy answers, mocking them and sputtering curses and threats. Eventually that had lost its mirth and thus he had stopped answering at all.

“You deserve it,” Clint said. “Every bit of torture they put you through. You fucking deserve it!”

“And why is that?” Loki rasped, fully aware that it might set off the other into another tirade.

Clint bared his teeth. “Because you did it to others.”

With his back, Loki leaned against the wall, his legs sprawled in front of him and his head resting against the cold bricks. “I never harmed you. I did not torture you. I only expanded your minds.”

“Keep fucking believing that!” Clint spat. “You used all of our minds as your playground. A different type of torture, but torture nonetheless!”

Loki hummed and tried to work some moisture into his dry mouth. It was to no avail - all he tasted was the lingering tang of old blood on a paper dry tongue.

“You fucking deserve it,” Clint mumbled and looked at his chain connected to the shackle he was fumbling with.

“And what if you are next?” Loki asked calmly.

“They don't want me and you know it. Otherwise I’d be spitting blood on the floor too,” he said with a disgusted look.

Silence filled the room again, save for the little clacks of the human fidgeting with the metal.

Loki thought about the nasty words Clint had said. Did he truly deserve it? He could understand the man’s spite and hate towards him, but did he deserve it? Maybe he did. Judgement on Asgard would be no less, if not worse. He couldn’t imagine anyone feeling remorse for him, so why should he?

He wasn’t proud of his actions, whether they had been of his own volition or not, but in hindsight, he understood that he had gone too far. And wrong behavior needs correction and punishment. He would do it to his subordinates had they disobeyed him. He had done it! Why would he be treated different? He was a Prince no more, King of no realm, only his Godly status would absolve him, and yet Loki could only conclude that the human was right.

He did deserve this torture.

The clang of Clint’s chain colliding with the floor drew Loki from his musings. “Any progress with that?”

“If I had, you would have been in this cell alone,” the archer bit mockingly.

The God huffed, but one corner of his lips quirked up a bit nonetheless.

* * *

An unknown amount of time had passed without either of them saying a word. Loki trying to calm and mend his injured body, Clint reserved to his own thoughts. 

The man had stopped fumbling with the chain long ago.

The sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the door had them both perking up warily, muscles pulling taut and vigilantly they peered at the door.

A grating sound of rusted and old metal came from the door, but instead of swinging open, the latch near the bottom opened.

Two bowls got pushed through the opening before it closed with a squeak and they could hear a lock being put in place. 

Both men looked the items. One bowl contained water and the other something that must pass for food, though it didn't look very appealing.

Distrustful Clint narrowed his eyes at the God, crouching to get in position to fight him over it.

Loki made a motion with his hand “Take it. I do not need it,” he lied.

Well, half a lie; he didn't want the food, but he would like some water. Yet, he wasn’t going to fight the human over it and he knew his body would last longer without sustenance than Clint's.

The archer apparently needn't be told twice and literally dived for the bowls.

“Dramatic,” Loki mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

“Well, can you blame me?” Clint snapped. “I'm trapped in this rotten cell with my former,  _ lying  _ martyr who is stronger than I am. I really thought you were pulling my fucking leg and snatch it away from me at the last moment.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Liar. Of course,” he sighed.

The God was never born a liar, he was made one. People couldn't handle it when he told the harsh truths and, in order to keep their own pride from getting marred, they just called him a liar instead. So many times had the Warriors of Three called him a liar when he had recited how he had saved them - only because of their own vanity and honor. Loki spoke truthfully, but if you're labelled a liar long enough, people start to believe that lie as well.

When Loki had reached a point of no return, his false reputation preceding him, he had decided to make that reputation true. He didn't want to let anyone down, didn’t want to be a liar about that as well, so why not? Then let him be the liar. He would make sure he would become the best lie-Smith of the Nine Realms.

Now he was and sometimes it worked to his disadvantage. Such as now.

* * *

Time had passed and Loki suspected it had been two days. He wasn’t sure, the single lightbulb attached to the high ceiling never went out, but his biological clock was still in tact.

It must have been two days because Clint had began to yawn a lot, his eyes drooping every now and then only to bolt awake, squinting his eyes at Loki.

They had been in this cramped space for two days and still the man didn’t trust him. Loki could understand that - he didn’t trust Clint either - but there seemed to be some unspoken truce. Neither of them had made a move towards the other, and even though Loki had been tortured thrice by now, he still had given the food and water to the human. Clint needed it more even though his own stomach was feeling empty now as well.

“Shit!” With a jerk Clint bolted awake again from his would be slumber, his eyes seeking Loki again to see if he had moved a single finger.

Loki sighed. “Barton, you need to sleep.”

“Yeah, sure! You think I'm gonna close my eyes with  _ you  _ in the room?” he snarled. “I fucking think not.”

With one hand Loki rubbed his face. He was getting a bit tired of the defensiveness of the other, but still, he couldn’t blame him. “Barton, had I wanted you dead, you would not be breathing right now. You need to sleep.”

“I don’t see you sleeping either.”

An irritated sigh escaped Loki’s nose. They didn’t talk a lot, but whenever the other did, he had a habit of grating on the God’s nerves. “I do not need to sleep as often as humans,” he clarified agitated. “You do.”

“Not gonna risk it, man,” the archer said with a tick of his head.

“What if I make you a deal?”

Clint laughed mockingly. “And what makes you think I trust a deal with  _ you _ ?”

Loki made a gesture with his hand, palm up, hand open and indicated the room. “I have nothing to do, not much to keep my mind from the pain in my body. We are trapped in the same place. The meagerest kind of deal would keep me occupied and maybe slightly happy right now.”

“Good to know I’m nothing more than a tool for your entertainment. You want me to perform some circus tricks for you too?” the archer snarled.

Loki let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a growl. “This conversation is useless. Sleep, Barton. That is a command.”

Clint didn’t seem impressed and, if anything, was equally agitated. “Oh yeah! I’m not taking commands from you anymore, remember,” he snapped. “What you’re fucking gonna do? Suckerpunch my lights out?”

“I might!” Loki said threateningly, baring his teeth a little. “If that is what it takes for you to sleep!”

“Fuck you!” Clint hissed between his teeth.

Both of them were skating on thin ice, ruffling each other’s feathers. Loki took a couple of ragged breaths to keep himself calm and to not bridge the distance between them to knock the man out cold indeed.

They were going around in circles and the only solution to that would be if they would stop talking. Loki had tired of the useless conversation anyway, and thus he did that. For someone who enjoyed wagging his Silver Tongue as much as he did, he also knew very well when to be silent.

This was such a moment.

Looking down, Loki fidgeted with his hands in his lap. From the corner of his eye he noticed that Clint was watching him like a hawk, just as his chosen hero-name indicated. He was probably to riled up after that conversation.

Eventually his eyes began to droop again, still trying to stay awake. Loki wondered how long the man would be able to fight himself on the matter.

With nothing to do, say or look at, Loki closed his eyes and rested his head against the hard wall. He wasn’t going to sleep, didn’t need it, but some meditation might keep him occupied.

Slowly he inhaled and exhaled, focusing on his breathing. Then he began to identify all the sounds he heard - there weren’t many. Then what he felt - pain - and tasted - blood mostly - and when he had used all his senses apart from his sight, he began anew.

When he was focusing on sound for the third time, he heard something he hadn’t heard before.

Footsteps!

They were coming from the other side of the door and immediately his eyes flew open.

Quickly he glanced at Clint, who hadn’t won the fight and appeared to be fast asleep. It formed for a small smile on Loki’s lips.

However, his smile was quick to fade when the door to his cell opened and the three familiar men entered his cell to drag him off. Putting his hands in the air as a sign of surrender Loki got to his feet.

He patiently waited as they undid his shackle and, though he hated the touch, he went with the men willingly. He didn’t want to make a fuzz in order to spare Barton; he was finally asleep and he didn’t want to wake the human.

No, he held no love for his former thrall, but contrary to where Loki believed he  _ did  _ deserve his punishment and torture, Clint did not.

If only the men hadn’t slammed the door so hard behind them.

* * *

_ “Asgardian. You are ours! You think you can escape us?” Dry laughter filled the empty space. “You think we cannot see you? You are failing us. Failing  _ him _ ! Playing on your little world.” _

_ “I have not failed yet,” Loki countered. But if that was true, than why was he feeling such dread? Fear… _

_ “You promised the Tesseract. He put the scepter in your hand! Now you have neither.” _

_ “That does not mean I have failed,” Loki answered composed. He was glad his voice didn’t wobble. _

_ “A failure nonetheless! You let the humans of Earth best you. Locked up and cast away.” _

_ “A minor obstacle.” _

_ “Liar!” the Other hissed. “He will find you. He will come for you. Enjoy your tortures while you still can, Asgardian. They are nothing compared to what he will do to you!” _

_ A hand made contact with his head. It felt as if his mind got turned inside out. It didn’t hurt, yet, Loki screamed. _

* * *

“Had some sweet dreams there, jackass?” Clint asked.

Loki was lying on the floor, his body convulsing in aftershocks from which he didn’t know what had evoked such spasms. He didn’t answer the archer, but instead pushed himself up to a sitting position without looking at the other.

His nightmare was bad. Not because it had been a nightmare - which was a nuisance in itself - but because it had felt too real. Too touchable, too tangible, the words of The Other too promising.

If this hadn’t been a nightmare, if The Other truly had found him…

A shudder ran over his spine at the thought and possibility.

There was nowhere he would be safe. Maybe he couldn’t hide indeed. It could potentially cause a lot of harm, and not just to him.

If The Other had found him and tinkered with the minds of the humans who kept him and Clint captive…

If The Other had found him…

The cogs of Loki’s brain stopped turning and kept mulling over that last sentence.

_ If The Other had found him. If The Other had found him. _

Dread and despair filled him to the core. It made him want to scream and at the same time never wanting to speak again. It made him want to burrow into the deepest pit and never get out, while he equally wanted to surround himself with an army.

_ The Other had found him. The Other had found him. The Other ha- _

“You know what my nightmares are about?” Clint asked rhetorically, intervening Loki’s ominous mantra.

Loki didn’t answer. He was still too caught up in the aftermath of his own nightmare, lose letters and words from his mantra scattered around his mind.

“ _ You _ !” Clint answered pointedly and then he added, mumbling, “If I sleep at all, that is.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?” Loki countered, forcing the words out of his mouth.

Clint ignored the question. “Sadly, when I open my eyes, my nightmare is still there. You know what that means?”

For the first time since Loki had awoken from his feverish sleep, he tore his eyes from the floor to barely look at the human through his lashes. A small window to look at his former thrall, not even lifting his head.

Apparently the human noticed he had Loki’s attention and viciously spat, “While you’re still off playing in candy land, I have to spent every fucking minute with what wakes me up screaming.” Clint rose to his feet and for the first time since their captivity he approached Loki - though he kept a certain distance - and menacingly leaned forward. “No rest. No respite. Sleeping or awake, it doesn’t fucking matter!”

Then his anger deflated and he calmly but sternly said, “So no, you shouldn’t feel flattered!”

Loki didn't say anything and just looked back at his hands in his lap, his thumb running over his index finger. The panicking feeling he had felt at his own nightmare had resided, Clint’s words interrupting and stilling the mantra in his mind. It gave him a little more room to breathe.

“Nothing to say?” Clint prompted, already on his way back to his side of the cell.

“What do you want me to say?” Loki sighed.

Clint swiveled on his heel and threw his hands in the air. “God. I don't know! That you're sorry?” he exclaimed incredulous.

Loki thought about his very real nightmare, The Other probably listening to his every word spoken, still in his head. It was better to wage his Silver Tongue to tell a believable lie than to tell the truth. “But I am not.”

The human sank to his spot on the floor. “And that is exactly why you deserve this.”

* * *

Loki eyed the bowl near his prostrate form only to find it empty. “We need to settle on some ground rules,” he coughed.

“I'd say we're doing fine.” Clint shrugged. “First come, first serve.”

“Well, that is an unfair game seeing you don't get dragged off to be interrogated,” Loki echoed his thoughts.

He placed his hands on the floor to push himself up, but he found that he was too tired. Every inch of his body was aching, his mind a mess that ran round and round in circles, and he was done putting up a brave face in front of his cell-mate. He didn't want to get up; lying was good. Still Loki didn't want his back turned to Clint or the concrete biting in his cheek and thus he rolled onto his back with a grunt.

The human huffed. “You should praise yourself lucky that I'm not a sadist or an evil bastard like you, or I would be sticking my fingers into those wounds to torture you more.”

“Lucky me,” Loki mumbled weary and sarcastically.

His captors had found that whatever was in his bloodstream wasn't going to make him talk. So, instead they had resorted to more messy methods, picking his body apart like vultures.

Barbaric creatures…

“You also might be happy that the grudge I'm holding just isn't enough to do it too,” Clint added in an off-hand comment.

“Sure,” Loki replied uninterested.

“What's this? The great God done joking and no more snappy words? And get to your feet,” he snarled while he kicked Loki's foot that was touching his. “You're in my space.”

Loki flinched as pain shot up his leg.

“What? Didn't like that?” Clint nudged his foot harshly, making Loki grit his teeth.

“I thought you just said you are not a sadist.”

The heated words from the archer filled the room. “I am not.”

“In that case I kindly ask you to stop before you make a liar out of yourself,” Loki said, hating himself for the weakness he was about to admit. “Because that hurts.”

Those words seemed to sober the human up. “That bad, huh?” he asked with a hint of remorse.

“Yes.”

There was a moment of silence and then the archer whispered, “What are they doing to you? What do they want from you?”

Loki had to refrain himself from rolling his eyes or bursting out into mocking laughter. The human wasn’t stupid, was he? He had chosen him to be by his side during his mad reign because he had seen something in the human; a shred of intelligence. Then why was he asking a stupid question?

“They take me out for walks in the park,” Loki sassed.

Clint sighed irritated. “And nevermind.”

“What? You wanted to have a heart to heart conversation?” Loki laughed, little waves of pain coursing through his body as he did. “You want to know all the details? Why, Barton, what do you think they do to me?”

The human lowered his eyes with a chastised look, making Loki feel slightly satisfied at the behavioral correction he had just given. “I can take an educated guess,” Clint mumbled.

“Then shall we leave it with that?” Loki offered, tired and not wanting to recite into detail what these strangers did to him and wanted from him. Not only would it be bad for the human’s mind, he also didn’t want to relive those tortures if not necessary. Soon there would be another day and Loki didn’t doubt the entire ordeal would start from the beginning again.

Softly Clint nodded and then equally softly mumbled, “Sorry.”

* * *

With a push, Loki stumbled into his cell and fell to the floor. His captor fastened his shackle and then the man was gone.

“You look wet,” Clint stated dryly, looking the God up and down whose hair was clinging to his face, his tattered shirt dark around the rim near his throat.

Loki coughed and pushed himself up to sit on his knees, hands on his thighs as he breathed heavy. “They have resorted to waterboarding,” he clarified equally dry between gasps.

“What a joy.”

Loki laughed. “I do not mind. They do not know my limit and at least I get something to drink and feel a bit cleaner.” Then he wrinkled his nose. “Though I must say that the water they use is not clean.”

“What  _ is _ your limit?” his former thrall asked genuinely interested, his brows furrowing.

Loki gave him a mischievous smile. “I can breathe through my ears.”

The man's eyes went wide. “Can you?”

The God laughed at the human's innocent question. “Think about it, Barton. How far do you think they stick my head under water?”

There was a moment of silence and then the archer said peeved, “Prick!” But a little smile formed on his face and at noticing Loki's grin, he laughed. “This entire situation is hopeless and you're still cracking jokes.”

With a twinkle in his eyes and a rise and drop of one shoulder Loki shrugged. “God of Mischief.”

* * *

The next day - or it must have been the next day - their captors came to collect Loki again.

A part of him hated it. A big part, of course. Nobody liked to be put through agonizing pains like this, trying to pick him apart only so he would answer their futile questions. Even  _ if _ he shared his knowledge about the scepter, they wouldn’t be able to wield it because one would need magic for it. And these people had the magic capability of a rag.

On the other hand Loki didn’t mind it so much. Clint wasn’t a very good conversation partner, still holding a grudge though he said he didn’t, but Loki was bored out of his mind. At least it broke the endless loop of nothingness that seemed to be slowly taking a toll on the archer.

Today his captors had some information to share with him - well, a small grain. “No more waterboarding,” they had said. “Apparently you like that too much.”

So, instead they had been playing with fire,  _ literally _ . But the insight it gave the God was of great value. It now confirmed that everything he and Clint discussed wasn’t private. He had suspected as much, but getting the confirmation was useful.

Once back in his cell, Loki managed to roll onto his back with great effort. It wasn’t only due to the fire they had made him swallow, but also because he lacked energy. He had been giving the food and water away to the human because he needed it more, but now it was taking its toll on his body.

Granted, he could have kept Clint from getting to the bowls if he had wanted to; he would have just used the chain attached to the man’s ankle to tie him up and keep him out of reach like a barking dog on a leash.

Clint asked him something - another of those stupid questions he himself already knew the answer to.

Loki wanted to reply with a sassy retort, but as soon as he opened his mouth dry air hit his burned throat. He couldn’t do anything else than coughing, which made the pain even worse.

His hand came up to his throat, slender fingers wrapping around the column and he tried to slow his rasped breathing. Carefully he shook his head, trying to let the other know that talking wasn’t an option.

Thus Loki laid there, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep himself calm while a deep ache that had been there for days only settled deeper into his bones. Furiously he hoped he would be around the next time that latch opened, because now he was willing to fight his former thrall over it.

His eyes began to droop, not fully closing, but not fully open either, his hand sliding from his throat to his chest. Next to him, Clint moved. Loki didn’t care. Let the man do whatever he wanted, there was no weapon in this damned and dreaded cell anyway that could hurt him. If the archer would decide to use a bowl as a bludgeon, it would just be a minor nuisance.

Even in his wounded state he would disable the human quickly and he wouldn’t have to get upt from the floor for that. Maybe it evoked enough of his anger and frustration to kill the other. At least that way the bowls with contents would be his.

From the corner of his half closed eyes Loki noticed that the archer sat down next to him, crossing his legs and leaning in to look at the God.

Now Loki narrowed his eyes; a fair warning to the other that he should be careful, but instead of wanting to harm Loki, the human carefully placed on of the bowls next to his head.

Loki barely turned his head to look at the item. It was the bowl with water and apparently the other hadn’t drunk it all; a shallow pool of water at the bottom of the plastic.

“There’s not much left, but you can have it.”

Loki’s green eyes flicked up to meet the grey ones of the archer. He wanted to ask why. Why was the man suddenly feeling the need to share? Why would he want to help  _ him _ ? But he knew couldn’t push the words passed his lips and thus Loki didn’t even try.

“Can you drink it yourself?” Clint asked with the barest shred of something that sounded like caring in his tone.

Slowly Loki nodded, his hand coming up to search for the bowl.

* * *

Day and night passed without either of them knowing time for sure. They suspected that they came to collect Loki on a daily basis, but it felt too random, too erratic.

Whatever Loki had said in one of their brief and uncommon conversations, Clint seemed a lot less hell-bent on taking his anger out on the God. He still felt resentment, but there had also been a slight change of heart.

Most times water and that gruesome stuff that should pass as food was brought whenever Loki wasn't in the cell but laying on a table to be picked apart. Clint saved half of it for him, but while he gratefully took the water, he only took a couple of slurps of the food before passing it back to the other.

As time stretched and the torments went on without a proper break for his body to heal, so too became Loki worse for the wear.

A lot worse…

“Shit! I won’t let anything else happen to you,” Clint swore to the God who was laying face first on the floor in a miserable heap. The Archer was hovering over his mangled form, but he didn’t know what to do or how to help.

“Suddenly getting sentimental, Barton?” Loki groaned, not making an effort to get up or even roll over.

“Damn it, Loki. Can’t you just say ‘thank you’?”

“No,” Loki answered dryly. “That word is on the last page of my dictionary and I have not read that far yet.” Immediately he got punished for the many words he had spoken, coughing nasty and he could taste the blood in his mouth.

“I highly doubt it,” Clint muttered, falling back on his ass from his crouched position. “You want to roll over?”

Loki groaned and weakly shook his head as far as his position and the pain allowed him. “When they come back, there is nothing you can do. You know this,” he rasped.

“You can't keep this up forever. Even you must have a limit,” Clint sighed, agitation, but more so fear apparent in his voice.

“A lot longer than you think,” Loki breathed. Then he added barely audible, “This is not my first time.”

“What do you mean?”

Loki was silent for a moment before he answered softly with a hint of anguish laced in his voice, “Getting interrogated in such fashion.”

Now Clint was silent and after what seemed like minutes, Loki thought the man wasn't going to speak anymore either. Then he suddenly asked in an equally soft voice, “Is that why you did it?”

Confused Loki voiced his thoughts. “Did what?”

“Attack earth?”

Loki contemplated his answer, wanting to lie, but discovering that he felt that Clint deserved the truth. “Yes, and no,” he settled on.

Clint sighed. “Always the difficult and cryptic answers. Care to explain?”

Loki pointed to the bowl of water in the corner; his condition. He would get some water, Clint would get his answer, which wasn't a short one. He needed the water.

The archer unfolded himself from his folded position to get the bowl while Loki pushed himself up into a seated position with great effort and a lot of agony. By the time he was up, he was panting heavily.

With a small nod of gratitude he took the bowl from the archer, taking a small sip and savoring the coldness and wetness soothing his throat.

“I did not want to attack Earth due to my own desires,” Loki said with a hoarse voice. “Tha- My martyr instilled the idea in my mind through his…  _ practices _ . Manipulations of different kinds, all to make me think it was my own idea and my own volition. I never wanted to rule your planet. Yet, I wanted to rule something because…” Loki trailed and pushed the words away, not wanting to admit this truth to Barton, or to anyone for that matter.

After Loki had taken another small sip of the water and had placed the bowl on the floor he continued. “I wanted to rule something because of my own, probably selfish, reasons. Thus when the opportunity was presented, I took it, because a part of me  _ wanted _ it.”

He looked down at his lap where he was fidgeting with his bloodied fingers. “When I finally noticed what I was doing and why, it was too late to stop it. I was in too deep.”

“You could’ve stopped,” Clint said compassionate, but Loki could hear the obvious accusement.

Ruefully Loki shook his head, still looking down. “No. The scepter… Your mind was not your own, Barton. You have cursed me for that many a time. And I-” shaking his head again, Loki broke off his sentence and let out a sad, clipped laugh.

“The scepter made that they were in your mind too?”

Loki’s eyes wandered back up to meet those of the other man, making sure he held his attention and that the deeper meaning of his next words would be caught. After all, their captors were listening to every word they spoke. “They did not need the scepter for that.”

The Other combined with Ebony Maw had been strong enough to invade his mind without it.

Clint got the deeper meaning and his eyes widened as he looked at the God in shock. “Shit,” he swore under his breath. “That is… Fuck. Are they-” Clint swallowed before he whispered. “Are they still in your head?”

Loki’s tongue darted out to moisten his cracked and bloodied lips, and when he answered, it was in such a hushed tone that he might not have spoken at all. “Possibly.”

* * *

_ “Still ours, Asgardian. Yet, the Tesseract is not. The scepter is not. You're failing.” _

_ “I shall get it!” he retorted, a tinge of despair lacing his voice. _

_ “Empty promises,” The Other hissed. “We're willing to give you one last change, fallen King. One change to redeem yourself. Don't ever say that  _ he _ doesn't care for his children.” _

_ Loki nodded. “I shall not fail.” _

_ “You already have, Asgardian. You'll get your chance, but his generosity is wasted if you ask me…” _

_ A hand made contact with his head. Pain seared his body from the inside out. Something weaseled its way out of his body and soul while simultaneously something viciously crept back in. _

_ Something forgotten. Something he needed and craved for. Something familiar. _

_ An old friend… _

* * *

“Come on, man! We gotta go!” Clint ushered as he pulled on Loki's arm, trying to drag the God with him.

Loki's form wouldn’t move an inch and Clint puffed. “Fuck, your heavy.”

The chains holding them in place had snapped thanks to Loki's magic, but as his Seidr had delightfully danced at his fingertips, so to had the things in his bloodstream activated, laying him low.

Convulsion after convulsion wrecked his body, the heat eating him from the inside out.

Even though he had been able to use his magic, his body hadn't healed. He was still weak, tired and gravely injured.

“Go!” Loki rasped, his body twitching as another wave of searing pain rampaged through him.

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” Clint exclaimed almost desperate.

“Sentiment,” the God mumbled, wanting to roll his eyes, but instead he felt the familiar prickle of tears.

Hurried footsteps echoed through the hall on the other side of the door - a door still closed.

Loki pushed himself up in a half-seated position and pointed at the door. Through the unyielding pain he called forth his Seidr, only evoking more agony from the things in his blood. The effort almost proved too much, but against all odds he busted the lock and then he limply fell back to the floor.

“Go,” he breathed again, his dull, green eyes finding Barton’s face.

“I can’t. I can’t. I promised. Damn! Not gonna leave you.”

The pain intensified and Loki let out an involuntary, agonized scream, his back arching form the floor. “You cannot save me,” he gritted through his teeth, trying to push the pain away in favor of communicating. “Still. In my. Mind,” he panted. “Leave!”

Clint still stood hovering over his form, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his side, his feet scuffling an inch as he contemplated his options. “I promised,” he mumbled, sounding defeated, but not yet convinced. “I fucking promised.”

Sadness, remorse, fear, anger and determination took hold of the God and with nothing more than sheer will he pushed himself to his feet. “Leave, Barton!” he hollered. “There is nothing you can do for me. Break your promise, I do not care.”

He took a big gulp of air, hating himself for what he was doing. What he was going to do… “I lied. I played with your mind. I loved every minute of it, and if we escape and the scepter befalls me once more, I would do it again. You’re mine, Hawk!  _ My _ puppet,  _ my  _ thrall.”

His words were so vicious, spoken with such vehemence and aid of his Silver Tongue which enabled him to make every lie sound believable, it made Clint stagger a step backwards, his eyes going wide with fear, disbelief and anger.

Loki didn’t stop, but the tears that had been biting the back of his eyes were rimming his eyelids now. “Run, Clint! Run while you still can, because if I get to you, I shall make you suffer. You shall forever be dancing on my strings and I shall not regret one single second. Leave! Run! Hide and do not look back.”

With the last bit of willpower he possessed he used his Seidr to send a weak telekinetic blast at the man.

A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.

If he just pushed the archer away…

If he could just make him understand…

“You’re not serious,” Clint mumbled. “But I do understand…”

“You do not!” Loki howled. If his body hadn’t been so weak he would have taken a threatening step forwards, but he couldn’t. So, instead he stayed riveted to the floor and let his words and demeanor do the work for him. “Pathetic creature, wasting your chance. I shall hunt you down-”

The shouting and footsteps down the hallway had built into a crescendo, and whether it was Clint’s fear of them, or of Loki, it was enough to finally make him leave.

With disbelief deeply etched onto his face, the human staggered out of the tiny cell they had shared for so long. Briefly he looked over his shoulder, “I promised you. I’ll come back to save you,” he vowed.

When he turned his head back he saw the God crash to the floor in his peripheral vision, but if he entertained any thoughts about saving him in that moment, Loki prevented it with cruel words. “ _ My _ puppet!  _ My  _ thrall!”

Then Clint was gone, leaving Loki alone to deal with their captors.

Just in time the man had fled as soon after the footsteps reached his cell, men hovering over his form that was writhing on the floor. So much pain, so weak, and yet it was nothing compared to…

Loki pushed the thought away and instead he hoped the human would get out.

The world went black.

* * *

After seven hours Clint and the other Avengers had gone back to the place he had escaped. The only testimony that Loki had ever been there - and that Clint had been held there too - was the blood on the floor that tested positive for alien DNA.

* * *

Seven days had passed and Clint hadn’t heard anything from the God.

Fury insisted he needed therapy. Clint dug his heels in the sand, but eventually he went.

No trace of Loki.

* * *

Seven months had passed. Clint hadn’t stopped searching to rescue Loki as he had promised, but the searches came up fruitless.

He wouldn’t break his promise!

* * *

_ “You thought you could escape us, Asgardian? That we could not find you?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Lies! I warned you that there is no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where we cannot find you! You got your second chance. You failed twice.” _

_ Silence. _

_ “You’re ours and your suffering has just begun…” A hand made contact with his head. Pain like he had never felt before turning his body inside out. _

_ Loki wanted to scream, but couldn’t. _

* * *

Seven years had passed. Clint still went dutifully to his therapy-sessions if only it was to keep Fury off his back.

So much time had passed and though Clint sometimes thought about Loki, it wasn’t as often anymore as it once had been. He hadn’t given up on the search, but it had gotten a low priority, especially after his family suddenly had disappeared.

Clint was lying on his bed in the shabby apartment he rented, staring at the ugly ceiling as sleep seemed to elude him.

Seven years today…

Finally his eyes began to droop, but a loud crash coming from the living room had him wide awake.

Quickly he grabbed his gun, took off the safety pin, and with the firearm leading he stepped into the small living room to investigate what had caused the tumult.

An eerie blue light cast frightening shadows across the walls, scarcely illuminating the dark room. At first Clint thought something was burning on his floor, but upon further inspection it wasn't something, but someone.

A very familiar someone!

“Loki!” Clint breathed in disbelief and he holstered the gun, heading over to the man.

The God was trying to push himself to hands and knees, smoke emanating from his body in whisps and he looked even worse than the last time Clint had seen him. Hell, he looked even worse than when he had stepped through that portal and when Clint had made his escape that day, combined!

Immediately the archer crashed next to him on his knees, trying to help the God to his feet, but Loki slapped his hands away. “Shit man, let me help you.”

“Barton,” Loki rumbled with a cracked voice. “Do not- Do not let them get it,” he rasped and hackled. “Do not.”

“Don’t let them get what?” he asked confused. “What happened? What have they done to you?”

Loki didn’t answer Clint’s questions, but instead he wheezed what seemed like a mantra. “Do not let them take it. Do not let them take it.”

Then, suddenly Loki was gone. No fancy magic, no lightshow or anything else, he just vanished into thin air and Clint was alone in his apartment again.

“Loki!” Clint shouted, searching the apartment, the God’s name now  _ his  _ mantra.

Loki wasn’t there.

Feeling utterly lost and completely helpless Clint stood in the middle of the room, contemplating what had just happened when his eyes got drawn to the blue light that still hadn’t faded.

The scepter!

**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive on comments <3  
[Follow me on Tumblr](https://starscreamloki.tumblr.com/)


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